The letter ended without a signature, though I knew who had written it.
I lowered it slowly.
“She tried,” I said.
Lucas looked at the pages.
“She sent this to your mother.”
“My mother never gave it to me.”
“Maybe she was afraid.”
“She had already lied. This was her chance to undo it.”
“People don’t always become brave just because they regret being afraid.”
I looked at him.
“That sounds like something you’ve had to tell yourself.”
His expression tightened.
“My father and I fought about this.”
“When?”
“After he told me about you. I asked why he never searched for you. He said he had no right.”
“Did you agree?”
“No. I told him he was using guilt as an excuse to avoid the possibility that you might reject him.”
The words echoed through me.
“What did he say?”
“That he could survive your anger. He wasn’t sure he could survive your indifference.”
